


Fatherly Counsel

by adjectivebear (HealerAriel)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, also lots of swearing, because this is the Hound, dad lecture, in which I self-soothe by having Arya's Weird Dad give her a much needed kick in the ass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 09:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18736714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealerAriel/pseuds/adjectivebear
Summary: In which Arya is second-guessing herself after 8.04 and gets some much-needed tough love from her surrogate father, who has no patience for her self-sabotage.





	Fatherly Counsel

Arya stares into the fire.

She and the Hound have ridden for hours, and she’s exhausted–-hells, she’s been exhausted for days; she hasn’t gotten any proper sleep since before the dead marched on Winterfell-–but sleep still will not come.

The painful clench in her heart makes it impossible.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID girl._

She can’t close her eyes. Every time she does, all she can see is Gendry’s face. The joy in his eyes. The hope. The  _love_.

And then the heartbreak.

_She_ did that to him.  _She_ hurt him.

Why?

Every hour they ride, she aches to turn back. She dreams of finding him in the forge, of throwing herself into his arms and telling him she loves him, too; that she always has, ever since they were children. _It’s only ever been you_ , her dream-self says to him. _I’ll follow you through all seven hells if I have to. I won’t be your lady, but I_ will _be your love._

Gods, why hadn’t she said that in the first place? Why had she panicked?

A sob escapes her.

Across the fire, the Hound stirs. “What the fuck are you…” his voice trails off, alarm registering on his face, and Arya wipes furiously at the hot tears on her cheeks, but it’s no use. He’s seen them.

“Go back to sleep,” she says, cursing the quaver in her voice.

“Like hell,” he says gruffly, and in that moment Arya hates him a little. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Arya says nothing.

The Hound swears colorfully. “This is about that bloody smith of yours, isn’t it? If he’s done something–”

“He asked me to marry him,” Arya says, hating herself for the fresh tears that spring into her eyes. “I said no.”

“Well, what the fuck did you do  _that_ for?”

“Fuck you,” Arya snaps, because she doesn’t have a better answer, not even for herself.

“Stubborn wolf bitch,” the Hound growls. “The stupid bastard loves you, and you  _must_ love him or you wouldn’t be weeping right now.”

“I’m not  _weeping_ ,” Arya lies, “and it’s not that simple.”

“It’s  _exactly_ that simple,” he says. “You want to end up a miserable old shit like me? Is that it? Because you’re well on your way. Take a good hard look at your future, because unless you wise the fuck up, this is it.”

Then he rolls over, leaving Arya alone with her thoughts.


End file.
